


Steve Carried A Watermelon (Sort Of).

by fannyvonfabulus



Series: The Watermelon Chronicles [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: And has a filthy mouth, Dancing, M/M, Steve is a sneaky soldier, at all, which Tony doesn't mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony takes the team dancing and Steve surprises them all. Especially Tony.  </p>
<p>Clint, Darcy and Natasha are make over gurus and Clint may have taught Steve a few dirty words. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Carried A Watermelon (Sort Of).

**Author's Note:**

> So people seemed to like Nobody Puts Steve In A Corner so I wrote an sort of sequel. There will be a third and final part and maybe some other wee drabbles that fit in somewhere around the story.
> 
> My everlasting thanks to bennysemma for being my beta for this installment. Love you Spangles ;)
> 
> Any and all comments welcome ;)

It's been a few weeks since Tony has had Steve wedged between his thighs in the living room and the blond has been avoiding him ever since. Well, Tony has sort of been avoiding him too. 

Kinda. 

He's had a lot of work to do actually. Just because he hasn't seen anyone other than Bruce doesn't mean he's avoiding anyone. And Steve hasn't exactly come to seek him out so Tony just assumes that the good Captain is actively giving him a wide berth. Normally Tony wouldn't have given it a second thought. But this is Steve. Beautiful, sexy, sweet, perfect, blushing Steve. Beautiful? Yes, beautiful. The man is so beautiful it's almost painful. And Tony is starting to dislike the clenching in his stomach every time his thoughts stray to the big man. 

Which is a lot. 

Actually, pretty much constantly. 

Seriously, Tony can't get the man out of his brain. It's driving him crazy. Even as he hammers away at the new chest plate for the suit, the image of Steve is ever present. The look in the blonde’s eyes the last time Tony had looked into them. That look of utter wanton abandonment is one that Tony can't shake, doesn't want to shake. But as soon as Clint had interrupted that night, Steve had flushed a crimson to rival the Iron Man suit and fled the living room. Tony hasn't seen him since. 

Maybe he's disgusted. Tony figures that Steve's 40's sensibilities had kicked in and the thought of being with another man had repulsed him so completely that he'd run away and that's why he's avoiding the brunet. Despite the fact that the blond knows that being into men in this day and age is OK, maybe it's just too much of a stretch for him. Some things you can just never change. 

Sighing, Tony stops pounding the armour and throws down his tools. Perching his goggles on top of his head and stripping off his gloves, he stretches and feels his spine pop. 

“How long have I been down here?” Tony asks. 

_“_ _52 hours, 36 minutes and 13 seconds, sir,”_ JARVIS replies flatly. 

Tony sniffs himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Yup, time for a shower and some sleep. 

And to formulate a plan. 

A cunning, sneaky, Snag-A-Super-Soldier plan. 

********** 

“Aww, c'mon. Pretty please?” Tony pouts at the rest of his team around the kitchen island 12 hours later. “Think of it as a team bonding exercise.” 

“Well, you can count me in treacle tits!” Clint grins, practically bouncing up and down with eagerness. 

Natasha is shaking her head but saying yes, grumbling about there needing to be a grown-up present anyway. Bruce politely declines and Thor is positively radiating happy yes vibes at the prospect. 

“Please, please, _pleeeeeeeaaasssssseeeeee_?” Darcy joins in with Tony's pouting. “I've got some serous shapes I need to be throwin'. C'mon guys. You know you wanna.” 

“How 'bout you Cap? You in?” Tony asks, turning to the blond with a twinkle in his eyes. Steve looks apprehensive at first but there's no blushing. Tony pouts a little harder at that. He likes the blushing. It’s adorable. 

“I'm in,” Steve says eventually. And what is _that_ in those baby blue eyes? Is that a spark of mischief Tony can see? Then Steve actually smirks at him before turning on his heel and sauntering (yes, Steve Rogers can saunter) down the corridor to his room. A fucking smirk? What the fuck?

Tony shakes himself before turning to Clint. 

“And what about Agent? Will he be joining us, muffin butt?” Tony drawls at Barton who, if he's not much mistaken (and he usually never is), blushes ever so slightly. 

“Why don't you call him and find out candy snatch?” Clint throws back at him before heading for his room at little faster than he would normally. 

Tony chuckles to himself. Phase One of “Operation: Get Steve” is complete. Now he just needs to go and make himself look even more irresistible than usual before the team outing to New York's newest and most exclusive night club. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun!” Tony smirks and, rubbing his hands together in evil glee, heads to his suite. 

********* 

The club is packed as the team arrives, all decked out in their finest glad rags. The bouncers at the door hadn't even hesitated as Tony led them all through the front door of the place; they'd just simply stood aside as the genius led them all through and into the building. Sometimes, having the most recognised face on the planet had its perks. 

Well, 99.9% of the time it has its perks. 

Tony flashes his trademark shark grin at the waiting paparazzi as he's waltzes in, Natasha rolling her eyes and Steve smiling that Captain America smile of his. Having the camera pointed at them when they're out as the Avengers was one thing. They had their costumes to hide behind then. But being dressed in civvies and out at a nightclub isn't in all of their comfort zones. Except Tony. He was born into this and he can slip into Media Tony Stark as easily as sliding on a familiar pair of old shoes. The only person putting on more of a show than Tony is Darcy. But then there's no surprise there. The expression on her face, by the by, would also lead one to believe that she’s ready to eat Steve alive. 

Tony is looking simply ravishing tonight, thank you very much, and he's turned the charm dial up to 11. He's wearing his very best black slacks, paired with a matching waistcoat that’s threaded with barely-there silver pinstripes. The white shirt and black silk tie set at its permanently slightly askew angle? They somehow make the ensemble look faintly rumpled, despite their elegance. Maybe it’s just his rakish bad-boy essence coming through. His best dancing shoes, perfectly mussed hair and a pair of purple-tinted sunglasses complete the look. Of course he wears sunglasses inside – he's Tony Fucking Stark. 

He looks good. 

He knows he looks good. 

The entrance to the club opens out into a foyer that overlooks the main club floor that's packed with dancing, writhing bodies. The music is loud, but not ear-splitting loud (there's a reason it's so exclusive) and all around the dance floor there are little alcoves with luxurious seating areas piled high with oversized cushions and each adorned with its own bar and bartender. There's no VIP area as the entire club is one massive VIP hotspot but Tony has made sure that they have the one alcove that's slightly bigger than all the others and has the best view of the entire, cavernous room. An impossibly tall hostess (who’s wearing heels that would make Pepper green with envy) shows them through the crowds of people and into the area that's just for them. The team all throw themselves down onto the seats and gabble excitedly with each other as champagne appears out of nowhere. Everyone seems to be having fun. Even Steve.

Tony has a sneaking suspicion that Natasha, Darcy and Clint may have had something to do with the way Steve is dressed tonight. Gone is his usual uniform of old man khakis and plaid shirt. Instead, he looks positively mouthwatering in black jeans that are just on the right side of tight and a blue Henley to match his eyes. That shirt is doing things to Tony's groin as he watches it cling to every single muscle on Steve's torso. Darcy was clearly in charge of Steve’s hair, seeing as it's no longer regimentally brushed and smoothed. Oh no. It looks like someone has been running their fingers (probably Darcy's) through it, mussing it up. Steve's hair is even more expertly styled that Tony's. 

Tony's eyes find Darcy's and she mouths 'you're welcome' at him with a smirk that says he owes her. 

Yup. 

Tony is going to have to design her a new tazer for this. Steve is a fucking walking, talking wet dream tonight. 

And he plans to make Steve's hair even messier before the evening is over. 

One thing he's not so sure about is what Steve is drinking. As he flops down onto the sumptuous seat in-between Steve and Thor, Tony can't help sniggering at the ridiculous drinks that he and the Norse god are drinking. They're bright pink and there's a veritable explosion of umbrellas and straws sticking out of them. 

“The fuck are those?” Tony asks, leaning forwards and taking a sip through one of the straws in Steve's drink before wincing at how sweet it is. 

“Man of Iron! We are drinking something called a Watermelon Daiquiri! Good, is it not?” Thor booms, clearly enjoying his cocktail as he finishes it in one huge gulp. 

“Watermelon? Seriously?” Tony snorts. 

“I like it,” Steve says simply, sucking more of the sugary cocktail through his straw, his plush lips form a perfect O-shape. The sight makes Tony lick his lips. Dragging his eyes from Steve's mouth to his eyes, his heart skips a beat as the blond winks at him. 

Actually winks at him. 

First the smirking and the sauntering back at the Tower, and now a fucking wink. 

Steve Rogers does _NOT_ smirk and he does _NOT_ wink. No. Steve Rogers blushes and stutters. 

Where in the hell was all the blushing and stuttering tonight? 

Huh. 

********** 

It’s later in the night and the alcohol is flowing. The team is becoming more and more raucous as they all start to truly relax and just have a good time. Natasha and Clint are out on the dance floor under the ever watchful eye of Coulson, who has come along much to Tony's surprise. He has a sneaking suspicion that seeing Clint wearing impossibly tight black jeans and an equally tight purple t-shirt may have had something to do with that. Thor is matching Steve drink for drink. Considering that the Super Soldier can't get properly drunk, only a little tipsy, Thor is getting more hammered by the second. Tony has been watching all of this with a sly smirk and, as Steve turns to grin at him, Tony merely raises his champagne flute in a salute before putting it down and sauntering off towards the dance-floor. He pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder and see Steve watching his arse as he walks away. 

The look on his face says he wants to follow. 

Good. 

Tony joins Natasha and Clint amongst the dancers on the floor and the pair of them immediately sandwich Tony between them. And why would Tony object to that? Two of the hottest and deadliest people he knows happily rubbing themselves all over him. Granted, they're not the person that Tony really wants pressed hot and hard against him but he isn't about to complain. 

“Is it working yet?” Clint says to Natasha over Tony’s shoulder as the three of them gyrate to whatever the song is that’s currently playing. 

“Yes,” Natasha replies simply. 

“I knew you were both in on this,” Tony laughs, throwing his head back against Clint solid shoulder. “Sneaky fuckers!” 

“Well, I did interrupt a few weeks ago,” Clint snorts, grabbing Tony's hips. “And we're fucking sick of the sexual tension between you too. Just fuck already, do us all a favour.” 

“I'm working on it,” Tony replies as he grabs Natasha's waist. 

“Work faster,” Natasha growls in Tony's ear. “Or we'll have to lock you both in a room until you deal with it.” 

Tony really laughs at that, despite the fact that he knows she's not lying. Time to put Phase Two of the operation into action. Looking over towards the rest of the team, Tony can see Steve staring at the three of them. Thor is talking at him but the big blond isn't listening. 

He only has eyes for Tony. 

Seriously, Tony feels like Steve's eyes are boring into him from across the dance floor. He puts on some of his more promiscuous moves, grinding up against Clint behind him and pulling Natasha in closer in front of him. Maybe he can lure the Captain over to lecture him about not gettin' jiggy with his team mates in public. He doesn't have to wait long though. Darcy is dragging the blond onto the dance floor. He follows seemingly willingly and the two of them join Tony and the others on the dance-floor. But before Tony can blink, Steve is showing off some moves that even the genius would be proud of. He and Darcy are moving flawlessly together. Gone is the shy, blushing blond of a few weeks ago. 

Oh no. 

This Steve is a fucking god on the dance floor. Even Clint and Natasha have stopped grinding against Tony to stand and stare, mouth agape as Steve is ruthlessly unleashing his inner Swayze right in front of them. 

Fuck. 

Who knew that that Captain America could work his hips like that? 

And Darcy is looking more than a little smug as she looks around Steve's massive chest at Tony to wink at him. 

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! 

Tony feels like he's slipped into some alternate universe as he watches Steve roll his hips in perfect time to the music and pulls Darcy tight against his front. And she's _LOVING_ it. Who wouldn't when they had the world's only super soldier plastered up against them, for all intents and purposes simulating sex on the dance floor? 

It’s indecent. 

Absolutely disgusting behaviour. 

And Tony totally wants in. 

“Well. That’s an interesting turn of events,” Clint sniggers in Tony's ear. “Where the fuck did he learn how to do that?” 

Tony shakes his head, still unable to speak. Captain America's arse gyrating in a pair of tight jeans to the tune of “Bootylicious” will do that to anyone. Dear God Tony wants to get his hands on that backside. It was perfect and round and just begging to be fucked. 

“Get over there Stark,” Natasha hisses quickly in Tony's ear, and before he knows it two pairs of hands on his back are thrusting him towards Darcy and Steve. He ends up coming to a halt when he meets Steve’s solid back. Tony reaches behind himself to flip Clint and Natasha the bird, mostly because he’s not about to turn around to glare at them when his face is buried between Steve’s shoulders just under his neck and he smells _SO_ good. All soap, leather, expensive cologne and _Steve_. Tony lets a little moan escape the back of his throat that he’s sure Steve is going to feel against his skin underneath his Henley but look at all the fucks he gives about that. This man is going to be the death of him, he’s sure about that. And that’s just from smell alone. 

Tony snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, making sure to slip his fingers under the hem of his shirt so he can get at his skin. His perfect, smooth, gorgeous skin. He does, however, resist the urge to slide his fingers down the front of Steve's jeans. That would just be jumping the gun and he wants to keep this whole dancing thing going for a bit longer yet. Just as he's draping himself over Steve's back from thighs to chest, a strong arm snakes behind him and hauls Tony around to face a very wanton looking Steve. 

Fuck. 

He looks well on the way to being thoroughly debauched. Darcy has moved off to dance with Clint and Natasha so Tony has Steve all to himself. The genius is now hoping that he can get the blond all the way debauched within the next 10 minutes. 

“Hi!” Tony smirks up at Steve. Smooth. Really fucking smooth Stark. Seriously? That's the best thing that sprang to mind? So much for that self-given title of playboy. 

“Hi yourself,” Steve replies, big hands settling on Tony's hips and pulling the genius flush against that gloriously perfect body. Steve recreates the scene of a few weeks ago by sliding his thigh in-between Tony's and the brunet's breath hitches a little. 

“So, you learnt to dance.” Tony's smoothness apparently knows no bounds tonight. 

“Darcy,” Steve says simply, his hands guiding Tony into moving with him. 

“You went to her instead of coming to me? Tsk tsk, Capsicle,” Tony chides, letting his own hands rest on Steve's hips, his fingers still under the hem of the blonde’s shirt. 

Steve just smirks and pulls Tony impossibly closer into his body and oh, God bless America. Tony can feel everything, even through their clothing. His eyes go impossibly wide and his mouth drops open a little as Steve shamelessly grinds himself against Tony. 

“What? No witty retort?” Steve sniggers as he rolls his hips. 

What the fuck is going on? Since when did Captain Apple Pie turn into some sort of snake-hipped, smart-mouthed minx? 

Tony is ashamed to admit that he's harder than he has been in years within seconds. Literally seconds. 

It’s embarrassing. 

But then, when has Tony Stark ever had any shame? 

Two can play at this game. 

“Oh Spangles, it’s going to take a lot more than that to leave me speechless,” Tony purrs, running his hands up and under Steve's shirt, fingers tracing those washboard abs. Steve arches an eyebrow and moves his hands from Tony's hips to his arse and splays his hands over both cheeks before pulling Tony hard against his thigh. Considering that the genius has never been one to hold back, he willingly grinds down on the rock solid muscle whilst looking up at Steve through his lashes. The Captain leans down to bring his lips level with Tony's ear and the hot little exhale of air across Tony's skin causes the engineer to shiver. 

“What if I tell you about how utterly fuckable you look tonight?” Steve murmurs hotly and Tony can't help the gasp that escapes him. Hearing the work ‘fuck’ roll off of Steve's tongue so easily makes Tony's cock twitch in his pants and he knows that Steve noticed it because he can feel the Captain smile against his ear. “And what if I told you about how much I want to drag you back to the tower right now and fuck you into next week?” 

Seriously, who is this person and what have they done with Steve? 

Tony has no words. 

Suddenly, nothing in the world exists but him and Steve. The noise of the club and the other writhing bodies on the dance floor fade away into nothing and all Tony can see is Steve. 

All he can feel is Steve. 

All he can hear is Steve. 

And if the good Captain doesn't stop, Tony is going to cum in his pants right there on the dance floor for the entire world to see. 

“Thought that might shut you up,” Steve breathes in Tony's ear as the friction between the pair of them has the brunet panting against Steve's neck. 

“Don't stop,” Tony gasps, his blunt nails raking down Steve's chest under his shirt before gripping either side of his rib cage to just to hold on to something as Steve rocks them harder together. “Don't you dare fucking stop.” 

Without warning, Steve turns his head slightly and takes Tony's earlobe between his teeth and sucks. Tony's knees buckle because fuck, since when is that a thing for him? If he didn't have Steve's very ample thigh currently wedged between his own he'd be slithering to the floor right about now. Normally Tony would be the one letting filthy words roll of his tongue. But Steve is doing a damn fine job of it all on his own at the moment, so Tony's just going to go with it. The combination of Steve's mouth on his ear, thigh between his legs and all the smut coming out of his mouth is almost too much. 

Almost. 

“Want to take you back to the tower, make you kneel and then fuck your throat so you won't be able to talk for days,” Steve growls, his teeth releasing Tony's earlobe to nip just below at the skin of his neck. That does it. That brings Tony right to the point of no return. The slow burn that was building in the pit of his stomach is catching fire now. It’s like a freight train with no brakes and Tony can't stop it. He's writhing against Steve and moaning loudly enough that if the music were just a little quieter, people would be able to hear him. He tries to muffle the sounds by sinking his teeth into Steve's neck but that just seems to spur the super soldier on. 

“Then I'm going to throw you on the bed, push your knees up to your ears and eat out that perfect ass that you're so fond of showing off in those tight fucking yoga pants of yours.” 

Oh fuck. 

Who is this man? 

Has to be an imposter. A Skrull or something. This isn't the blushing, stuttering Steve Rogers of a few weeks ago. Who the fuck has been teaching him to talk like that? Tony needs to know. He suspects Clint. Whoever it is, he needs to know so that he can declare his undying love and gratitude because this? This right now? Hottest moment of his life. 

“Fuck, _Steve_ ,” Tony manages to rasp out as he gets impossibly harder at the thought of Steve's tongue in his arse, licking him open, getting him ready to take his cock. And judging by the size of what he can feel pressing against him, he's going to need all the help Steve's mouth is willing to give. Yup. Tony is feeling pretty fucking patriotic right now and his mouth is watering at the prospect of his throat getting fucked by not-so-little-Steve. “Fuck. Steve, you… _FUCK_ …” 

“And then I'm going to fuck you, Tony. I'm going to fuck you and watch you come apart underneath me. And then I'm going to fuck you some more,” Steve whispers in the genius' ear as he grinds against him again and Tony is gone. 

He's just so fucking gone. 

He's cumming in his pants like a 15 year old who just got his hands on his first porno and he should be embarrassed but he's not. He's groaning into Steve's neck, teeth marking the perfect skin, nails digging into the blonde’s ribs. He cums hard and fast, right there, straddling Steve's leg on the packed dance floor of the most exclusive night club in New York. 

Tony slumps against Steve, trying not to white out as he rides out the last waves of his climax. Thank fuck the super solider is just that because Tony is completely boneless against him. He doesn't even want to try using his legs right now because he knows they won't hold him up. So Steve holds him like that for a while, still swaying to the music and eventually Tony comes back to himself and straightens up. He drags his eyes up to meet Steve's and holy fuck. Those baby blues are almost completely black they're so blown and Tony swallows dryly at the sight. If he still had the refractory period of his teens, he'd be ready for round two after looking into those lust-ridden eyes. 

“Well, that was fun,” Steve says eventually with a grin that's far too innocent given the circumstances. He smoothly disentangles himself from Tony before heading towards the rest of the team in their alcove. 

And Tony is left standing in the middle of the dance floor with cum in his pants.

He's never been more grateful for having worn black in his life.


End file.
